


25 Days of Christmas

by AmeliaFriend



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 10,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmeliaFriend/pseuds/AmeliaFriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Updated every day, from now til Christmas day - short fluffy FitzSimmons-y Christmas things with the team and others occasionally thrown in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1 - December 1st

It was the morning of the first of December that Skye made her way down to the Lab - Coulson was doing paperwork, May was flying the plane and Ward was ... busy.

She hoped the 'science twins' wouldn't be too busy to spend some time with her because, honestly, she was bored stiff, and had been for a little while.

 

The first thing she noticed walking down the stairs was that while FitzSimmons weren't in the Lab, two fairly large rectangular pieces of cardboard were.

She recognised them within moments - advent calenders - the chocolate kind that she never got growing up with the nuns, but had bought one for herself the year before because ... well, because she could.

 

This wasn't the cut price brightly coloured children's piece of crap she had had last year though - this was posh, an expensive looking thing that Skye found herself wondering when they'd had time to buy, because they hadn't had any down time in close to three weeks, and it had been almost triple that since they'd had down time anywhere near where they might sell something like this.

 

"I love your mum, Jem." It was Fitz's voice, coming in from the back of the Lab, and Skye took a step backwards out of direct line of sight.

"I'll be sure to let her know." The laugh in her voice was evident. "What did you get in today's anyway?" There was a slight rustling as Skye assumed they opened the first day on their respective calenders.

"A bell. You?"

"Bauble." She was quiet as she ate her small piece of chocolate, before starting to set up their days work ready for whatever Coulson needed them to be ready for.

 

"Merry December 1st, Jemma." He spoke quietly, but there was a hint of amusement in his face, as he popped his own chocolate into his mouth.

"Merry December 1st, Leo." She echoed, her voice softer than his, her eyes catching Fitz's for a moment, before she broke the contact, turning again to her work.

 

Skye backed away slowly - feeling oddly intrusive of what looked like an intensively private moment, and retreated up the metal staircase before they turned and saw her.

Maybe Ward would be finished with what he was doing now.

 

Down in the lab, the silence reigned once more - broken, as always, only by the soft strands of a festive melody emanating from the radio, and if their hands brushed against each other more than was truly needed to, well there was no one to see.

 


	2. Day 2 - December 23rd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not related to my other AOS stories.  
> Still - hope you enjoy.
> 
> It's technically after midnight where I am, so it counts as December 2nd.

It was the night before Christmas Eve that Jemma rung the doorbell of 21 Victoria Road, a small smile playing on her lips that she couldn't quite remove, Fitz stood at her side, the large black bag filled with enough clothes to last the pair of them four days slung over his shoulder.

The sounds of shuffling drifted through the walls of the house, along with the yelled command of - "Evan, get the door!"

The voice was muffled by the walls separating them, but the words were clear enough.

"But m _uuummm_..." The answer that came was not unexpected, though Fitz hoped he would hurry up, as it was getting rather cold stood out here.

"Now, Evan." There was no room for mistake in the elder woman's voice, and it was with a tremendous amount of noise that a barely teenaged boy came to open the door, his sister following him as she so often did.

The annoyed face of the elder quickly morphed into something akin to joy as he realised who was at the door, throwing his arms around his older sister faster than Fitz would have thought possible, Jess lingering just behind, a smile blossoming on her face.

As he always was, Fitz was struck by how similar the pair looked, despite the obvious fact that one was very clearly male, and the other female.

Evan looked almost as he always did, pulling away from the sister nine years his elder, messy near-black curls that fell atop a face with a unique ever present grin, and the same big brown eyes he shared with both his sisters - half a head shorter than one, half a head taller than the other.

With her dark hair, just half a shade lighter than her brother's, pulled into a neat plait down the centre of her back, and her big eyes wide, still stood just inside the porch, Jess looked (as she had since Fitz had first met her almost eight years previous) significantly more than just fifteen minutes younger than her brother.

"Jemma," she whispered, almost silently - all but pushing her brother out of the way to get her own turn at hugging her sister. "Hey Leo," her voice was muffled by Jemma's shoulder, her face still pressed into it.

Pulling back, she didn't release her sister entirely - it  _had_ been almost five months since they had been face to face - and Skype and phone calls can only do so much.

"I missed you," her voice was barely audible, but her fingers didn't unclench from her big sister's jacket - Jess had always been closer to Jemma than Evan had been, and everyone knew it.

"Jemma, Leo, guess what?" Evan's voice was carefully gleeful as he drew the spotlight away from his twin sister when she began to fidget under the attention of three people, even three close family members (because how could Leo be counted as anything but) that she adored.

"What?" Came their quick (always synchronised) reply, curious and knowing  _something_ was coming.

"It's nearly  _Christmas_!" And he just sounded so excited, it was hard to do anything but grin back, as they made their way out of the softly falling snow, and into the warmth of Jemma's childhood home.


	3. Day 3 - December 3rd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just inside December 3rd! Sorry. School work!

Ward had to suppress a laugh as he entered the main living area, only to find the three 'kids' gathered around a tree that he was sure hadn't been on the plane a few hours ago, yet they hadn't touched the ground in longer than that - a trail of thought he honestly didn't want to think too hard upon. 

"You do have permission for this?" His voice was droll, an eyebrow arched, watching in private amusement as they jumped - realising they had a audience.

"Of course!" Simmons' voice was slightly shaken, but as cheerful as it always was, her eyes wide with sincerity.

"We asked Agent Coulson _days_ ago." Fitz finished, his eyes never leaving the nearly symmetrical arrangement of baubles he was in the middle of placing on the fake green pine.

Perfectly satisfied with their selves, the two resident scientists returned to their work with their usual vigour - even if this work was more ... childish ... than their usual alien exploits.

"How did they rope you in?" This question was directed towards Skye, still watching him, an ornament bell in her hand.

"It's Christmas." Came her simple answer. "Plus they looked so excited it was hard not to get into the spirit of things."

He knew what she meant, even just looking at the scene before him - it looked like Christmas - in a way that Christmas hadn't looked to him in a very long time, longer than he could remember at least.

So when Skye sauntered (almost silently - she hadn't quite mastered that portion of her training just yet) across the room and up beside him, something so obviously hidden in the hand behind her back, it was hard not to roll his eyes.

Revealing the golden star that should be seated in pride of place at the top of the - admittedly impressive - tree, her eyes followed his face.

"You wanna help?" Her eyes were innocent, wide, and therefore probably not to be trusted. "It is _Christmas_ after all, Agent Ward."

"It's the third of December." He was having none of it.

"Well it's nearly Christmas then. Don't spoil our fun." Her voice was child-like, petulant it could almost be described as.

He was silent - choosing his next words carefully, lest he found himself with three mysterious poltergeists for the next month, should he insult the great _Christmas_ \- and as he did so, snatches of conversation drifted across the room to them.

"No Fitz I said the _golden_ tinsel. That's not gold."

"Well it looked like gold in the box." He instantly replied, a _tone_ in his voice.

"It's _green_. How does _green_ look like gold?"

Skye shook her head at him, a silent message to ' _not get in the middle of that_ ', a message that Ward was all to happy to follow. Though seriously, how did you mix up green and gold.

"Besides, I think we'll need someone to stop them before they start to take over the world with _Christmas_." She continued from her previous statement, laughing, as if there had never been a pause, giving him a pointed glare as the conversation between biochemist and engineer slipped further into the realm of ... _'I_ really _don't want to think about it_.'

Actually rolling his eyes this time, he took the star from her outstretched hand, joining them in their festivities with a smile he couldn't quite keep hidden.

It was Christmas, after all.

 


	4. Day 4 - December 4th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jemma was a naive child, Skye wasn't really a child, and sometimes Fitz should just keep his mouth shut.

"Oh. Santa got it for me last Christmas." Simmons' was distracted, searching in the fridge for something as she replied to Skye's question - the younger girl nearly choking on her coffee.

"Simmons..." Her voice was hesitant, not entirely sure of the answer her question would bring. "You do know that Santa's not real, right?"

"Of course. Doesn't mean he can't still bring me presents." Jemma's tone was matter of fact.

"Yeah." There was a humorous edge to her voice this time. "It kinda does."

"No it doesn't." She was firm in the way she always was when she knew what she was talking about and knew she was right. "Just because you know Santa isn't real by the time you're seven or eight, doesn't mean you can't still benefit from his generosity."

From the corner - momentarily scaring the two girls hadn't even realised he'd walked into the room - Fitz spoke up, his mouth moving before his brain could catch up. "Seven or eight? Simmons. You were _fourteen_ , when your little brother - who happened to be five at the time - told you Santa wasn't real. And if your parents recall correctly, you cried abo..."

He was cut off with a sharp yelp, as an apple - bright red and crispy, only freshly retrieved from the fridge - bounced off of his forehead, before rolling off to parts unknown and disappearing underneath a cupboard.

Muttering under his breath about insane women with tempers, he stalked out of the room quickly before any other projectiles could find their way to his vicinity.

 

Skye turned back to Jemma.

"Fourteen?" The word itself was a question, with a disbelieving undertone clear.

"I ... I ... I - well, how old were _you_ when you found out about Santa?"

All of a sudden, the little speck of dust to the left of the oven, and as far from Simmons' line of sight as possible, became very interesting.

"We didn't really ... where I grew up. It doesn't matter." Skye's voice was quiet, and the unspoken request to change the subject was actually picked up on by the biochemist, and the matter was dropped.

* * *

The weeks passed faster than she thought they would, and all of a sudden it was Christmas morning - and somehow she was spending it with Ward and his little brother - who in his late twenties, wasn't actually that little anymore.

It was the last present on the pile, wrapped in red paper decorated with reindeer, with a dainty little card - a message handwritten on the back, the writing pretty but not anyone's she recognised.  
Looking closer she read the words,

_Merry Christmas Skye._  
 _Sorry I missed a few.  
_ _Santa_

Skye would deny til her dying breath the grin that didn't leave her face for the entirety of the day.


	5. Day 5 - December 2nd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short chapter that doesn't actually make much sense, but you know - school, and life ...  
> I'll have a couple of longer chapters up over the weekend.

It was quiet, that morning, snow visible falling from the heavens - barely enough to dust the ground, but falling none the less.

It was quiet in the bunk as well, the pair pressed close together as they attempted to sit side by side on the narrow bed wanting, needing, space - just for a little while.

With a steaming hot chocolate in their hands, filled with marshmallows and whipped cream, and the image of a roaring fire on the screen in front of them (the one that Fitz had created back when they were sixteen, their first Christmas together).

Their lives now couldn't be more different since that first year, in all ways except one, they were still together, side by side facing the world, and occasionally hiding from it.

It still wasn't a real fire in front of them, and they knew the only warmth they were feeling was from shared body heat and the Rudolf mugs that were in their hands.

But it was cosy, and quiet, and just a rest from the day - and they were safe in the knowledge that the team, _their_ team was just a few walls away.

Really, it couldn't have been more perfect.

 


	6. Day 6 - 2009 (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First half of Christmas when they were 18 - involves the sister from hell, and Jemma being a good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a day late - but you'll get two chapters tomorrow to make up for it. Promise.

"Fitz?" Jemma pushed the door to his room open with a shout. "The taxi company phoned, they're gonna be here in fifteen minutes. Get your bag."

There was no answer as she walked into the tiny 'living room' - just big enough for a sofa and a telly, with a window (that was starting to look rather filthy again, she noted mentally) and two doors - one leading to a basic bathroom consisting of a toilet, a shower, a sink and a mirror, the other leading to a bedroom with a single bed, a wardrobe and not much else.

It was the exact image of her housing space the next room along, and about 300 others in the SHIELD funded housing they lived in while in the process of their second degree.

Passing through the living, she spotted the (thankfully already packed) suitcases stacked by the ghastly coloured sofa, as she made sure to make enough noise that he realised she was there, and therfore wouldn't accidently walk in on him changing in his room.

Again.

Finding him changing would almost have been a good thing compared to what she did find - her best friend sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixated on a blank space on the wall, his hands fisted so tightly - he looked to be squeezing the life out of his telephone.

He knew the moment she came in the room though, because he started talking. "Becca called. Grandma's sick." He sounded almost dead, his arm dropping limply to his side, the phone falling loudly to the floor.

Jemma opened her mouth to speak - she didn't know what the words would be, didn't know what words there  _could_  be, shock clear in her face, but Fitz shook his head.

"She said she's in hospital, that she's fine, she going to be fine, but that maybe I should stay here this year."

The statements were contradictory, and at this point he was talking more to himself that to Jemma, muttering almost under his breath, his accent thickening with every breath until no one other than her would have been able to understand him anyway.

There were a wide variety of ... choice ... words Jemma could have used to describe Leo's older sister at that point, but none of them would do any good, so she pushed them to the back of her mind, where they would simmer until the next time she got to see the twenty seven year old woman.

"But it's Christmas." Her voice was soft, her hand going up to comfort him, but stopping and hovering just shy of actual physical contact, not knowing what he needed at the moment. "And you've been looking forward to this trip for ages."

"Becca and David and the kids are there, and she said it could be harmful to overwhelm her, so ... it's not like I have anywhere to go."

The lost little boy look on his face almost tore Jemma's heart out at that point, and the desire to throw something at Rebecca grew exponentially.

A blind man could see just how much Fitz loved his grandmother, and how much he'd been looking forward to going to see her again - it wasn't like he remembered his parents, so she was the closest thing he had ever had to a mother. And now Rebecca was saying that Fitz couldn't come home, and why? Out of misplaced jealously most likely - it was no secret that Leo had inherited the brains of the family, with him doing his second degree already by the age of eighteen - while Becca's greatest achievement when she was that age was ... well she didn't really have one.

"Well you can't waste the trip." Her voice was final, a plan coming together in her head.

"Weren't you listening?" He didn't move. "It's not like I can go home."

"Well the airplane tickets are expensive - and I know SHIELD bought them, but don't even start - so you're not wasting it and you are  _not_  spending Christmas alone. You can come to my house with me. Mum and dad won't mind, and we have a spare bedroom anyway."

His eyes flicked up to her for a fraction of a second. "Don't be silly Jem - I can't come with you. You haven't seen your family in like six months. I'm not intruding - you should just enjoy yourself."

"And you think I'll be able to enjoy myself knowing you're here  _alone_ at  _Christmas_."

The first inkling of hope began to grow in his eyes, "You're sure?"

She rolled her eyes. ""Of  _course_  I'm sure. You'll spend Christmas Day with me, then on boxing day, day after at the latest we'll go to Scotland and visit your grandma, Rebecca or no Rebecca. Now go and get your suitcase, the taxi'll be here in about ten minutes and we're not going to be late."

The second he left the room, a small smile beginning to play on her lips, Jemma pulled out her phone, dialling the number she memorised years ago.

They answered within three rings, and she spoke before the voice on the other end had a chance to say anything.

"Mum? I know its  _really_  late notice, but I need a favour."


	7. Day 7 - December 9th

They were never quite sure who threw the first ball, obviously it could be narrowed down to either half of FitzSimmons but beyond that?

Well, neither of them were admitting to it.

The first ball to hit someone other than its intended target? That one was easy - judging by the shocked amusement that covered Simmons' face, and the expression on Fitz's that fell exactly on the line between fear and ..., well actually just fear, as he watched the white sludge drip down the back on Ward's head a few metres to Simmons left.

The elder agent didn't say a word, as he lowered himself slightly, pulling the snow at his feet into a ball of his own, the three younger ones stood completely still, and yet while FitzSimmons were tinged with caution, Skye showed no sign of stopping in her (almost contagious, judging by the smiles that said scientists were trying to fight) giggles.

Her laughs stopped two seconds later when a snowball collided with the young hacker's chest.

From that point it descended into chaos - Fitz against Simmons against Ward against Skye - until they forgot they were not only SHIELD agents (sort of), but they were - technically - adults, and having a full on snow ball fight in the middle of the night in some country north of the Arctic Circle wasn't what normal well adjusted adults spent their time doing.

But whoever said they were normal well adjusted adults in the first place?

Cheeks flushed, entire body freezing and boiling at the same time, exhilaration seeping from every pore, it certainly wasn't the most comfortable they'd ever been - especially considering that gloves and hats and (in ... certain cases) even  _coats_  had been left on the plane, and the realisation that (though not new, was certainly valid) that, if anything, snow was  _fricking cold_.

They almost missed the forced coughing sound from the lowered cargo bay door, and the man making the noise.

Almost, but not quite.

Coulson stood, just two steps away from the edge of the snow, his face set in a look of moderate disapproval (no change there), and his suit as immaculate as always.

Well, almost.

Save for the very large, very obvious, white circle marring the chest of it.

The excuses couldn't come fast enough.


	8. Day 8 - 2009 (Part Two)

"Look, all I'm saying Jemma is that..."

"I know what you're saying Fitz, and all I'm saying is that you're not spending  _Christmas_  alone." She didn't turn from her position, facing away from him, watching from the window of the taxi, but he could hear the disapproval in her voice without  _needing_  to see her face.

"Yes, but..."

"But nothing." She cut him off again. "Besides, I've already told mum you're coming." A short laugh - more a huff of breath than anything else - escaped her. "She's made up the spare bedroom and everything."

He snorted, and she turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

"My mum loves you." She told him, simply and matter of fact.

He raised an eyebrow of his own in return, as she studiously watched the roads become more residential as they neared their destination at the edge of London.

Your mum's never met me." Came the short, if truthful, reply.

A roll of her eyes was the only response as they turned into a small cul-de-sac, Victoria Road, he noted idly, as Jemma seemed to bubble over with glee.

Over the past few months he'd seen her at various stages of anxiety and joy, but never as full of pure exhilaration as this - this pure unadulterated happiness of coming  _home_.

Passing over a handful of notes to the taxi driver in the front seat, he helped her pull the (many) suitcases to the front door - halfway up the driveway (which would have been easy to spot in the dimming light, even without the multitude of Christmas lights that lined it, or the decorations adorning every window - who knew Jemma could actually be the  _normal_  one in her family when it came to Christmas), when the front door burst open, two small blurs threatening to knock the pair over as they swarmed for their elder sister.

Fitz knew who they were, sort of, Jess and Evan - the Terrors (and that's with a capital 't') as Jemma was apt to call them - balls of energy and mischief and intelligence wrapped inside bodies too small for it all so it seeped out at the edges, embedding parts of themselves in everything they touched, everything they saw.

There were other things he noticed, such as the fact that Evan hadn't even noticed him, but had already nicked his sister's suitcase, and was trying to run off with it, had it not been so heavy, and Jess had slipped a hand inside her big sister's, sending a small smile in his direction - which (according to Jemma) was big for the shy little girl who looked to be an image of her sister.

Eventually they made it into the cosy semi-detached home, Fitz making an excellent first impression as he almost knocked over Jemma's mother, while watching Jemma lock the front door.

She shook her head as he attempted to apologise, scolding himself inside.

"It's nice to finally meet you Leo." Her voice was kind, but her eyes were trained on her oldest daughter, and he could feel Jemma's returning glare even with his back turned.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs Simmons," he replied with a nervous, apologetic, half smile - because believe it or not, his grandmother  _did_  raise him to have manners, even if he chose not to use them in most situations.

"Emily." She corrected. "Evan, show Leo up to the spare bedroom. Jemma, kitchen."

"I told you he was real," he heard Simmons hiss, supposedly too quiet for him to hear, but they were gone before he could hear her mother's response.

With a last look back at the women's' retreating backs, Fitz followed the nine year old up the stairs and to the end of the hallway passing his best friend's childhood bedroom (no, he wasn't  _looking_ , the door was  _open_ ), and he couldn't help but hide a small chuckle as he realised the purple room, filled with bookcases and shelves and half-finished experiments, was almost exactly what he had imagined for the slightly older girl.

"What did your mum want?" He didn't even have to look up as she walked into the room a scant five minutes after Evan had abandoned him for something or another.

She shrugged. "Nothing much." Sitting on the bed, she turned to him. "Do you ever notice the difference between remembering home and being home?"

He shrugged, a small smile on his face as he imitated her.

And they remained in silence, Simmons lying on the bed, and Fitz making sure he hadn't left all his underwear in America. (Again)

Or at least until Evan came barrelling into the room, talking a hundred words a second about fire and burning and dad and help, just as the smoke alarms starting blaring and Emily shouting, " _David!_ " could he heard throughout the house.

The gesture Simmons made at that point towards Fitz could probably be summed up as, ' _welcome to Bedlam_ '.


	9. Day 10 - 2011 / December 17th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistletoe!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted for a little bit of happy just before the airing of the mid-season finale where our hearts will undoubtedly be ripped from our chests.

"Why are we here again?" Fitz's voice was barely more than a murmur in her ear, the comment only the latest in a seemingly never ending string of complaints.

"Because we're supposed to have fun occasionally." She had mastered the art of answering him, without looking at him, or moving her lips out of the large smile they appeared to be stuck in, as she carried on

" _This_  is fun?" His voice was droll, and she could barely contain a snort of laughter while she tried in vain to converse with a couple of friends from her chemistry class.

"You're right," she replied a few moments later, when the others had left to find something to drink.

"Two of my favourite words." Came his quick retort. "But you're gonna have to be more specific as to what about."

She smiled, the feature spreading quickly across her face before she forced her facial muscles into something resembling normality. "This really isn't fun."

"Told yo..." His voice was cut off as she stepped sharply on his toes, the usual pressure only increased with the fact that she was wearing heels (a fact he only noticed because they were now the same height ... sure).

"Finish that sentence and I will abandon you here for the rest of the night." He didn't need to be told again, shutting up as Jemma led him through a series of corridors away from the party and towards the main living halls.

"I can't believe you talked me into..."

"... I never talked you into anything." She countered, cutting easily over the top of his voice in the abandoned corridor, pretty much the entire Academy still back at the party.

"You talk me into everything."

"Well, otherwise you'd never do anything."

"I happen to  _like_  not doing anything." He wasn't sure what had drawn his attention upwards, a flicker in the lights, a glint of green in the corner of his eye, but he looked up as they passed through the narrow doorway, maybe twenty metres away from their rooms.

It was clear as day - the green leaves and the red berries, recognisable as mistletoe, even if they hadn't been helping to rig it at random points throughout the halls only that very morning.

"Oh." And everything changed so quickly. His voice had dropped to almost nothing, and he took a step forward almost subconsciously - this wasn't a new thought for him, it had been playing on his mind for weeks at least, months certainly, and this was just the last push in a direction he was already walking.

"Well, it is tradition," she whispered, stepping closer, unsure and not at the same time.

"And who are we to argue with tradition?" He voice was nearly silent, and he closed the gap with one final movement, pressing their lips together, soft and warm and familiar and new at the same time.

Closing her eyes and melting into the sensation, every thought in her head disappeared - the kiss being both everything she ever imagined it, and yet at the same, so different to her wildest dreamings.

It didn't feel  _new_  so much, not like the few other kisses she had ever had (because it wasn't like she spent  _every_  waking hour with Fitz ... just most of them), it felt natural - it felt like it was (and later she may just bury herself for being so sentimental, because that wasn't her, except it was) meant to be.

Her fingers tangling in his hair, one of his on the back of her neck, the other round her waist, they were close - closer than they'd ever been before.

And she  _liked_  it, she liked being close enough to smell his scent of chemicals and solder and her perfume and something so undeniably  _Leo_  that it just drew her in further.

And then it was over, just as suddenly as it started, but neither of them stepped back, their gaze catching each other, and just holding it there, the comfortable silence permeating everything as they attempted to come to terms with the new evolution of their partnership.

Still smiling (was she ever going to stop smiling) from their first kiss, she leaned in for their second.

* * *

 

"Kiss!" Skye's excited shout drew the two scientists out of their own little world as they entered the main living area.

Simmons turned to her friend with a confused (and slightly incredulous) glance, wondering what could have led to that little outburst.

In response, Skye pointed at the doorway above their head - both of them even further baffled until they saw it, well, Fitz saw it first, the little bundle of green leaves with small red berries stark against the pale beige of the surrounding décor, impossible  _not_  to see now they had spotted it.

Judging by the grin on her face at the scenario, there was really no mistake about who had planted the plant.

Refusing to give in entirely to her friend's ... shenanigans, Simmons rolled her eyes and pressed a kiss to her lab partner's cheek, short and chaste and about as far from romantic as it was possible to get.

Frowning, and obviously displeased with the way they had skirted the rules, Skye groaned - her words overly drawn out. "Oh, come  _on_ , guys," the statement accentuated with her leaning (almost violently) back into the sofa once more, forcing Ward to the opposite end, lest he risk being sat on (or worse - squashed) by the overzealous hacker.

Simmons looked over with an air of feigned innocence that - while fooling Skye - didn't fool the specialist, and certainly didn't fool Fitz, close enough to see the smirk of mischief hidden in her eyes as she caught his, replying with a surprising lack of her usual emotion. "We kissed."

"That wasn't a kiss. Ward, tell them that wasn't a kiss." She shoved her SO against the arm, not intended to cause harm, but not quite gently either.

He didn't bother answer her, as he returned to the book she attempted (futilely, oh so futilely) to knock out of his hands.

Figuring it was safe to return to their earlier conversation, the pair left Skye to her own devices once more, trusting Ward to keep a close enough eye on her to stop her from from placing  _too_  many sprigs of mistletoe, especially in a place where Coulson, or heaven forbid  _May_ , could get 'caught' underneath.

Silently and mutually deciding she was no longer their problem when the (only very slightly) younger girl began pestering Ward for one of his sandwiches, they continued on towards the bunks, where they had been headed for in the first place.

* * *

 

The door shut behind them with a slight thud, blocking them off from the rest of the world - and the rest of the team.

It wasn't a ... secret, per say - their relationship that is - but neither Fitz nor Simmons were very public when it came to private relationships, families and significant others falling easily within that category.

Plus they were almost entirely sure that May and Coulson knew already, and if it was fun to watch Skye try and 'set them up' - well who was anyone else to judge them.

Wrapping an arm around Fitz's neck, Jemma pulled him down until their faces were level, eyes mere millimetres apart, close enough that they could feel each other's breath on their face.

His arms loose around her waist, it was Fitz who leant in, a soft press that spoke of familiarity, lips moulding to each other automatically, breaking apart only when they needed to breathe again, their foreheads remaining touching the entire time - two heartbeats loud in the silence of the sound proofed room.

"Now that," she whispered, pulling him backwards towards the bed that was technically  _hers_  but was really  _theirs_ , her voice barely more than a breath, "is a kiss."


	10. Day 11 - December 11th

It was late evening, when the desire for sustenance overwhelmed her desire for solitude, and had her heading towards the (hopefully empty) large kitchen, when the light caught her attention - emanating from the main living room, a faint blue-ish tinge.

The two shapes were easy to spot, dark lumps lit only with the barest of a glow from the television, a film still playing cheerfully though there was no one left awake to watch it - they were still dressed in their clothes of the day, evidently having begun to watch before falling asleep too soon to finish it.

Sprawled across one half of the sofa, they were almost entwined - Fitz's head lolling backwards against the top of the sofa at an angle that would definitely leave an uncomfortable ache in his neck come morning, Simmons curled up beside him, her head placed peacefully on his shoulder, oblivious to the occasional snore of her partner - and despite the warmth she could almost see around the pair, they still seemed to be shivering slightly in the sharp chill of the evening air that permeated the Bus every evening when they were at however many thousand feet.

She rolled her eyes, a smile appearing and disappearing almost instantly across her lips as she reached behind the sofa, pulling out a large patchwork blanket that no one quite remembered who brought it on board initially, but everyone used, and throwing it haphazardly over the pair, to keep the chill off of them until they woke in the morning.

Heading into the kitchen eventually, she poured herself a cup of coffee before retreating to her bunk - the silence once more prevalent.

And the plane slept on.


	11. Day 12 - 2088

"No!" She repeated, but there was a laugh in her voice, as she struggled to sit up in the uncomfortable hospital bed.

"Hey, hey." He was stood in a second, moving from the chair by the window to her beside, all but pushing her back down. "The doctor's said you weren't to strain yourself."

"It's only delaying the inevitable," she grumbled good naturedly, laying back - referring to her own mortality in the way that only those who had seen everything could.

At ninety seven years old Jemma FitzSimmons hadn't deteriorated enough to think she had seen everything - but she had seen all she needed to and now it was more than passed her time.

In a strange way, she was rather looking forward to it, as her eyes turned to the window and found the room empty once again.

She  _knew_  he wasn't real, yet she played along every time her brain conjured him up, an all too unsubtle reminder that her time was drawing to a close, the last of ... of  _FitzSimmons_  gone forever.

The smile dropped off her face as her eyes darted back to the empty chair underneath the window.

FitzSimmons had been gone for a long time already - ten years, six months, two weeks, and four days (not that she had been counting or anything), but that was how long it had been since Fitz had gone and only Simmons had remained.

Only Simmons remained.

A new trend in her life.

They were all gone now, Coulson and May (both of them gone for so many years) and Ward (managing to reach retirement, at least, his wife with him every step of the way) and Skye (was it really fifteen years ago that she had said goodbye to her best friend? But really, they all knew she wasn't going to last long, joining her husband barely eighteen months after his death) and everyone she had really ever known back when she was younger.

Even the twins had been gone for almost five years, doing everything together their entire lives until they died within three months of each other.

She supposed that was the price of living too long - eventually everyone else ... moves on.

Her drifted shut slowly as she distantly noted someone walk into the room and (finally) shut those bloody curtains.

It was a shame though.

It had just started to snow.

* * *

Sophie FitzSimmons had always been a mummy's girl, her younger sister Sarah being more of a daddy's girl, so it evened out pretty well.

Her mum didn't even have to say anything, but she knew to shut the curtains the moment she came into the room - Jemma hadn't said anything in days and the doctors had told her that it was only a matter of time, that her mother was very old and it wouldn't be painful in the slightest.

It still hurt though, the thought of losing her mother - it didn't matter if she was seven or seventy one - her mum had just always been there, and soon she wasn't going to be anymore, and she didn't know what to think or say or do.

She remembered better than Sarah - back when they were really little and spent most of their time living on an airplane with auntie Skye and uncle Grant and uncle Phil and aunt May and their cousins(once they were born that is), she still remembered.

Well - she had to - there was no one else old enough to do so, her aunts and uncles long gone, her cousins and their descendants scattered around the globe, her sister trying so desperately to make it, but trapped on the other side of the world

So here she was, in a nondescript hospital in a nondescript city in a nondescript country, with no one for company.

Almost no one that is, she amended as the noise began to build.

"Give it back," the screech echoed down the hall, a ten year old little girl screaming at her little brother.

"It's mine!" The five year old shouted back almost instantly, clutching the small toy to his chest - their mother was getting something to eat, both for herself and for her grandma Sophie - and Sophie had to smile, as memories of the same actions performed by multiple generations of children floated to the surface of her mind - some things never changed, even when everything else was, a tear slipping unbidden down the side of her face as she watched the monitors attached to her mother slow down.

A tugging at her arm caused her to wipe the droplet away quickly, before looking down.

"Nana?" The small boy whispered softly. "Are you okay?"

And wasn't that a loaded question.

* * *

"What took you so long?" The voice was familiar but it took a second to place it, because fifteen years was a long time.

"Skye!" Her own voice was incredulous and (now that she thought about it) decidedly too young. "But you're...?" She didn't know how to finish the sentence.

And then she  _couldn't_  finish the sentence, because her eyes caught on an approaching figure.

Her arms were around him in a millisecond, pulling each other close, her head tight against the crook of his neck, just breathing him in - solid and there and  _real_  beneath her.

And if a few tears slipped out while her face was hidden, then there was no one to see them.

"Leo," and her voice was a secret between the pair, too quiet for Skye or anyone else to hear, and he pressed his lips to her head in a familiar, in a comforting gesture, and she had to take a shuddering breath to readjust herself, coming to the slow realisation that his eyes were no longer on her, but on the scene behind her.

Turning, she saw what he was watching, and she smiled softly.

"They called him Leo," she whispered, refusing to let go of  _her_  Leo, of the  _original_  Leo.

"We made a beautiful family," he murmured watching the two children try to cheer up their grandmother.

"Yes we did," came the short reply, and then they were gone.


	12. Day 13 - 2016 - AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews, I adore them so, so much.  
> As I killed off Simmons (kind of ... in the distant future) I thought I'd do the opposite today.
> 
> Happy Friday 13th by the way.

"Are they back?" Jemma's voice was cheerful, as she checked her watch. "I suppose that means he wins."

A confused look from Skye had the bio-chemist explaining further.

"We had a bet. He bet he would be back by Christmas Eve. I bet he wouldn't." Offering her wrist up, she continued to rattle on, not even noticing the other woman as she packed away her work. "Ten to twelve. That means he wins, just."

Jemma frowned, her hand drifting lower until it rested on her abdomen and the slight raised bump that was just showing at three months. "You won't tell him I've been in the lab will you? He gets terribly worked up over these things." Her voice lowered to a whisper as if it was some sort of secret, as if the entire Bus didn't know how difficult it was to keep any part of FitzSimmons away from their work.

"Jemma..." Skye's voice was quiet, and there was a hint of ... something in it that had the blood in her veins run cold all of a sudden.

Her arm wrapped tighter around her stomach, subconsciously protective, her mind refusing to register the words she knew were coming.

"It was an ambush, they knew they were coming, and they were ready for it," Skye took a deep breath, tears clear in her eyes, "Grant's still in surgery, and even now it could go either way," suddenly the computer specialist's eyes were anywhere but on her friend, her voice trailing off.

"And Leo?" She prompted, her mouth dry, her face fearful.

"I'm so sorry Jemma, but there was so much blood, he lost too much blood."

Jemma paled instantly, the blood draining from her face as Skye watched - her features becoming pale and ashen, her legs buckling underneath her in a way that would have had her plummeting to the ground had it not been for the junior agent's quick reactions, but even that succeeded in only slowing her descent.

"This is a joke right?" Her voice was desperate, clutching to the last straws of hope she had. "Any minute now Leo is going to walk down those stairs and we'll laugh and I'll probably hate you a little bit, but it'll be okay - because you're just joking. Right?"

The pleading look on the elder woman's was more suited to a terrified child than a full grown adult, but terrified child worked just as well.

"I ... I wouldn't ..." Skye tried to speak but the words just  _weren't working_ , and she couldn't do anything to help but watch as the silent tears slid down her best friend's cheek, dripping in undisturbed paths until they fell off of her face and onto her hands, the hands gripping a small gold band.

_("Keep it safe," he had said - just two days before. "I don't want to lose it."_

_And he had pressed a kiss to his wife's cheek, and a hand to her stomach and then he got in the car with Ward._

_And they didn't know it then, but they would never see him again.)_

Skye couldn't help but remember the day they had given each other their rings, just over eighteen months before hand, in a little garden in England, the grass was green and the sun was shining and everything was beautiful, and of course neither side of FitzSimmons noticed, their attention entirely too focused on each other - but it was the happiest she'd ever seen them, the happiest she would ever see them, until the day about a month before when they announced they were going to be parents.

Her face fell flat as she realised -  _they_  weren't going to be parents anymore,  _Jemma_  was.

And it was all she could do to force the images out of her head - Grant, motionless on a table, kept alive by machines and the frantic hands of strangers; May and Coulson stood by the door, waiting for news, not letting another member of their team, their  _family_ , slip away so easily; and Leo, motionless forever, laid on a cold metal slab waiting for his next of kin.

But she couldn't delete the images, they were seared into her mind, so she turned her attention to the still dangerously pale woman next to her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders as she became to sob, large silent shakes rattling her body, tears soaking the shoulder of Skye's shirt.

_("I'll be home soon." He promised._

_He lied.)_


	13. Day 14 - December 18th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - I take it you really like the heart wrenching tales, and want more of them.
> 
> I kid, I kid ... but feel free to tell me if you like having your heart torn from your body, and I can write some more - not that I probably won't anyway, this way I can just see what sort of soul crushing destruction you like to read.
> 
> Now please return to your regularly scheduled fluff.
> 
>  
> 
> (Song is 'Baby, it's cold outside' - in case you were wondering, and one of my favourite Christmas related tunes)

It was quiet.

They weren't on a mission, there hadn't been any disasters in the last twenty four hours or so, nor was there any work of vital importance in the lab - but still the two scientists found themselves down there, encased in their own world as always.

Uninterrupted in the silence of their work - save for the small radio that they had more or less tuned out as background noise - they almost didn't notice when they both began humming along to the same tune as it played at a volume nearly too quiet to be audible.

Music lessons as children (at first, forced by parents and grandparents in an attempt to be more like other children, later, because they actually enjoyed them) had left both with fairly good tuning - neither would be abandoning their field in favour of music any time soon - but they wouldn't embarrass themselves (too much) at karaoke, or damage any delicate sensibilities, in the near future either.

"This evening has been, so very nice." Jemma switched from humming to singing softly underneath her breath, her eyes catching Fitz's, a small smile creeping across her face, as she tried to force herself to concentrate on her work.

"I'll hold your hands they're just like ice." Fitz replied in time with the line of the song, and by then, there was no way that her work was going to hold her attention any longer.

They met in the middle, her arms winding around his neck as they began to twirl along with the music, somehow the fact that they were still in their lab coats and she still had her overly large lab glasses on her face just making it all the more ... them.

They sang along softly, their voices inaudible to those more than a metre or two away, their eyes never leaving the other's face, expressions tender - not wanting to be anywhere else in the world - unaware of anything outside of the little world they had created.

"Oh, but it's cold outside," they finished, together, Jemma pushing herself onto her tiptoes so she could press a kiss to Leo's face when a sudden cough drew their attention and they jumped apart as if they had been scolded, immediately trying to stammer out explanations, their voices overlapping as they were so apt to do, falling silent together at the unchanging expression on the intruder's face.

May stood in the entrance to the Lab, with no indication as to how long she had been waiting for them to notice her, her usual expressionless features fixed on them.

"Mission briefing in ten."

Well ... that answered the question about whether she knew or not.


	14. Day 15 - 2023

"Mummy!"

Was all the warning she received before the hurtling missile of a six year launched herself onto their bed.

Jemma glanced over at the clock, groaning internally as she realised she had only managed to make it into bed six hours before. "Yes Sophie," she asked her small daughter, as patient as ever.

"It's Christmas," she told her mother, with all the excitement only a daughter of Jemma (formerly) Simmons could exude - because  _yes mum_ , she'd had Christmas's before, but she was  _six_  now, and that was  _practically_  a grown up.

Or so she had tried to argue when trying to stay up past eight o'clock the previous night.

And Jemma couldn't help the grin that slid across her face in response, the small girl's enthusiasm infectious.

Suddenly putting her arm out beside her, and realising the bed was emptier than it should be - her husband of eight and a half years nowhere to be found, she turned back to her daughter, still (unsuccessfully) trying to pull the elder woman out of her bed, by sheer force of will.

"Where's your dad?" And Sophie looked up for a second, halted in her task.

"In Sarah's room - she was trying to climb out of her cot." And then she was back to her task of 'getting mummy up, because I want my presents', when a familiar figure caused a shadow in the doorway to the bedroom.

Leo was stood there, with an amused, questioning expression on his face at the scene - somehow effective despite the fifteen month old he was holding, and who was returning the favour by tugging on his nose and babbling nonsense that obviously made sense to  _her_.

Nearly unchanged even almost thirteen years after their first meeting, the soft eyes, the sometimes manic energy seemingly unhampered by two small children.

She got out of bed silently, cursing the clock that was still showing numbers before seven, and pulling on the warm fluffy dressing gown she had made sure was within arms reach of her bed for precisely this purpose, as Sophie squealed with renewed excitement running to the top of the stairs.

It was Christmas after all.

* * *

Two and a half hours later after multiple arguments, far too much chocolate for anyone this early in the morning, never mind a six year old, and a very long breakfast that was more to keep Sophie from eating  _too_  much junk than anything else - there was surprisingly peace in the FitzSimmons household.

Looking up from dressing the doll that she had been  _begging_  for ... for months, Sophie turned to her parents, "Are cousins coming round soon?"

By cousins, she was referring to three sets of children - Jess and Evan and their respective wives obviously but the Wards as well - having grown up calling the other adults 'aunt' and 'uncle', it was only natural that their children would be 'cousins'.

And as for Rebecca's children.

Well, as far as Sophie was aware, she didn't  _have_  an aunt Rebecca.

"Tomorrow," Jemma assured her - dreading having to cook for sixteen people the next day, even if six of them were under the age of four - if anything that made it  _more_  difficult, absent mindedly moving the wrapping paper Sarah was trying to eat out of her reach, and distracting her with Teddy - the unimaginatively named teddy bear that was her favourite companion.

Taking advantage of the momentary peace, Jemma tucked herself underneath her husband's arm, resting her head against his chest, her eyes half-closed in an attempt to gain more of something close to rest.

"Did you ever think we'd have this?" Her voice was soft against him.

"Have what?"

"This." She gestured blindly at the two small girls at their feet.

"The 3 bedroom house, 2.5 kids, a dog, the whole she-bang?"

"We don't have a dog." She had to suppress a laugh as she nit picked his statement.

"Can we get a dog?" Sophie asked from the floor, not really taking much notice in the conversation, but wanting to participate never the less.

"No." Her parents answered as one, not unkindly, but in a way that suggested it was a repeated answer.

"If you'd asked me ... ten years ago, what my idea of a perfect life was I'd have answered..." Jemma continued from her earlier statement.

"Safety." He offered.

"Peace."

"Our own private Lab."

"The Bus," and they didn't have to suppress a smile as their many memories of the place that was their home for so many years flooded them suddenly.

"You." His voice was quieter this time.

"You." She repeated, and he pressed a soft, familial kiss to the top of her head as she twisted to look up at him.

"Maybe we got closer to perfection than we thought."

Pressing a kiss of her own to Leo's cheek, they had to separate almost immediately as Sophie began yelling that ' _Sarah's touching my stuff_ 'and Sarah began crying because Sophie was yelling.

"Maybe," and there was a grin in her voice, as they moved to placate their daughters.


	15. Day 16 - 2009 (Part Three)

The next few days passed in a haze of ...  _CHRISTMAS_  ... a feeling strongest when around the twins, but still all too soon it was the morning after Boxing Day, and the pair were getting ready to head up to Scotland.

Pulling their suitcases along as they hurried through the busy train station, Fitz's worries began to grow once again.

"I just don't think this is a good idea. I mean, we didn't even tell anyone we're coming."

"Do you want to see your grandma Fitz?" She spun to face him, her face almost uncomfortably close to his, a pale flush spreading across her cheeks as she realised, and took a conspicuous step backwards, her eyes locked with his, showing the same intensity she put into everything.

"Of course, but Rebecca said..." He tried to argue.

"But nothing," she interrupted, slightly distracted once again, as she checked the platform on their tickets - a task she didn't trust to her best friend any more. "We're going." She glanced back at him, an eyebrow raised, "When are you going to realise I'm always going to get my way?" There was a joke in her voice, but there was a truth that Fitz couldn't quite deny - even in just the four months they'd known each other, he hadn't been able to say 'no' to her - not about anything important anyway.

* * *

 

Stood at the unassuming wooden door, Fitz hesitated a moment, risking a look back at Jemma, sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair as she let the engineer have some time alone with his grandmother first.

Pushing the doubts out of his mind, he shoved the door open before he could try to run away yet again.

The first thing he noticed was that she didn't look as bad as he had imagined (dreaded), but as some of thoughts had included the elderly woman in intensive care. There were a few machines around her bed, but the only piece of equipment actually attached to her was a single IV, and even that looked mostly empty. His eyes darted to the chart at the foot of her bed, the charts and notes not making the slightest bit of sense, despite his knowing that they explained what was wrong with his grandmother.

He was tempted to call Simmons in, at least  _she_  would know what a portion of the medical jargon would mean, but the white haired woman's eyes began to flutter and even he knew that meant she was waking up.

"Hey grandma," his voice was quiet, his eyes anywhere but on her, as she fixed a steely stare on him.

"You're late." Her voice was raspy, but no more so than it usually was, and it was reassuring to have her here and in front of him - the telephone calls he had been surviving on for the last few months just weren't the same.

"Sorry grandma," and everything just felt  _normal_  again, "Rebecca said..."

He trailed off as he caught sight of her expression, a sudden ... explosion of noise on the other side of the door catching his attention.

"That is my  _grandmother_."

"Oh, so  _you're_  Rebecca. I should have  _guessed_."

"What's that supposed to mean then?"

And Fitz had to suppress a wince, recognising the voices easily as Jemma and Rebecca's.

"Well you can't go in there," and a shadow fell across the frosted glass in the door - Jemma blocking the entrance he presumed. She could be quite stubborn when she wanted to be. Even when she didn't want to be as well, he had fast come to the conclusion. "Fitz is in there."

"Fitz?" Rebecca was confused - not unusual for the elder woman, he had to note - but he wasn't really known as that around here.

" _Leo_. You know. Your ...  _brother_. Do you remember him know?" And he had to note, it was pretty impressive (not to mention mildly amusing - when he wasn't on the receiving end) how quickly Simmons could switch from her usual mild mannered self to a snarky, stubborn headed mule given the right conditions.

"My brother's in there?" There was a hardness in her voice that didn't lend itself to being a question, and he could tell she was trying to force her way into the hospital room - Jemma not budging an inch.

"Shift it, you stupid slag." That was his sister's voice - and the last straw of his patience.

His grandmother raised an eyebrow as Fitz stood up - no ... not just because she insulted Jemma (and she wasn't stupid in the slightest- she was the cleverest person he knew, and he included himself in that), but to try and talk some sense into the two women, before they did something they'd really regret.

Of  _course_!

"I like her." The old woman cackled, coughing violently once more, and still refusing to let him help her, somehow falling asleep that probably had something to do with the amount of medication she refused to admit she was on.

"Of course you do...  _Grandma!_ " The exasperation bled into his voice, confusion still prevalent on his face as he made it into the hallway just in time to catch the climax of the argument - and watch the reactions of (the now many) bystanders - as a resounding slap echoed off the walls, sending everyone into a stunned silence, their eyes on the voiceless war between the two females.

Well, that and the already blossoming red mark on Rebecca's cheek.

* * *

 

"I can't believe we got kicked out of the hospital." And she really  _couldn't_  believe, even a few hours, finally alone in their hotel room.

Turning to him, suddenly worried, she asked quickly. "I wasn't  _too_  horrible was I?"

Fitz couldn't quite suppress his laughter.


	16. Day 17 - December 20th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proper SkyeWard stuff in this chapter.  
> And Skye finds out that FitzSimmons is canon.  
> That's gonna be awkward in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come follow me at: amelia(-)friend(.)tumblr(.)com

In hindsight, a drinking game probably wasn't the best idea Skye had ever come up with.

Though it had to be admitted - neither could it be counted as her worst.

It was supposed to be a fun evening - a couple of movies, some alcohol - May couldn't attend because she was 'too busy flying the plane' - what an excuse  _that_  was, and apparently Coulson had paperwork coming out of his ass at this point (she was paraphrasing him, of course) and he needed to at least make a dent in it.

So that left her, Ward and FitzSimmons - plenty enough to have a good time.

She wasn't expecting the two scientists to such lightweights ... they'd only been drinking for - she glanced at the clock, the drunken haze that clouded her eyes making her strain a little bit more than usual to work out the time - oh ... almost four hours, maybe they weren't  _that_  lightweight.

Finally registering the noise she realised was her own voice, she decided she should probably spare at least a small portion of her brain to monitor what was coming out of her mouth.

"And how do they become  _super_  villains anyway? How is it any different from being a  _normal_  villain? Ward? WARD?  _WARD?_."

He was ignoring her, his eyes trained on a point just off to her side - not drunk enough to actually care about anything she was saying, drunk enough to not want to do anything to stop her.

"Ward!" She poked a finger against his forehead.

Or at least, she attempted to - the vision taking a nose dive at the last moment, her finger ending up in the corner of his eyeball instead.

At least his attention was on her now, an almost fierce glare despite the fact that his left eye was involuntarily welling up with water.

"You do cry!" And  _why_  couldn't she just stop talking, it's not like it was difficult, just shut her mouth and not let words come out and was she still talking now - she wasn't quite sure.

He still didn't answer, instead just taking her glass off of her and placing it outside of easy reach - the action saying more than words ever could.

And being the mature, responsible adult she was ... she stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

 

Suddenly curious at the lack of noise from FitzSimmons' direction, she took her eyes off Ward's eye (and really - that had gone red  _really_  fast), intending to take a quick glance at the scientists to ensure they weren't accidentally planning mass destruction or something - she would put it past drunk them, considering their earlier conversations.

What she found was slightly more ... weird.

There was something ... familiar in the way Simmons was nestled in her lab partner's (and at that distance, if they were just lab partners, she'd eat her hat - if she had a hat that is) lap, his arms wrapped protectively around her - having (finally) burned through the hyperactive stage in their drunkenness, and now firmly embedded in the 'sleepy' stage. There was a question on Skye's lips that she so desperately wanted to ask (namely what the hell was going on) - but she wasn't sure they'd even hear, so surrounded in their own world as they were.

It was answered in the next breath anyway, as Simmons twisted until she was facing him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, before resting her head on his chest, her eyes drifting into sleep, as he returned to kiss against the top of her forehead, his own head falling until it rested against his own shoulder following his other half into unconsciousness.

That wasn't the actions of a spontaneous drunk, nor of a new relationship, still unsure, still secret - that had history, familiarity, trust and all those other things that a healthy long term relationship was filled with.

Except healthy long term relationships weren't kept a complete secret from their friends (the 's' was necessary, because one look at Ward's face showed that was just as out of the blue to him as it was to her).

"Maybe we should," her eyes caught his as she gestured towards the beds, suddenly uncomfortable for some reason, that probably had something to do with the scientist pair now lightly snoring just a few metres away on the other side of the sofa.

He nodded in agreement, somehow ending up following her - actually looking forward to going to sleep now - when she stopped him just before the entrance to her bunk, a flutter of ... something ... passing across her face as she steeled herself for something - and then she moved, simultaneously going on up to her tiptoes as she pulled him down (and he'd never really thought about the height difference until now - and  _why_  was he thinking about it now), pressing her lips against his.

The kiss was sudden and forceful and everything he had ever thought kissing her would be like.

Not that he thought about kissing her.

Often.

And then, just as soon as it had started, she stopped - pulling away with a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

One of her hands jerked upwards, pointing at the ceiling, bringing the plant hanging their into his view.

"Mistletoe," she offered as a way of an explanation and an apology - practically running away and disappearing into her bunk, out of his reach before he could formulate an appropriate answer.

He was never going to be able to get to sleep now.

And his eye still hurt anyway.


End file.
